


Impaired soul

by raging_fire



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Mates, Nesta is a mess, Pre-Relationship, Sad with a Happy Ending, thank the cauldron Cassian loves messes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raging_fire/pseuds/raging_fire
Summary: Nesta looses control of her powers in a public place and destroys everything. Her dark thoughts drag her down and make her loose touch with reality. After realising what she’s done, Nesta breaks down.Thankfully, she’s not alone.





	Impaired soul

**Author's Note:**

> Because I was feeling a little blue and writing about my favourite pair and Nesta’s struggles is my preferred method of therapy. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

> _"if you can't look on the bright side,_
> 
> _i will sit with you in the dark."_

 

_\- Alice in Wonderland_

 

 

She felt her control slip the second the voices overwhelmed her, shouts and laughs so loud that it made her head pound. Different yet the same, they all reminded her of her time spent submerged in an endless void, drowning on her sorrows and painful memories. The music turned into a whirring sound that brought tears to her eyes, making her knees shake and her power quiver.

 

All that unused, locked power, begging to be left out and destroy something, anything. Nesta didn’t think she’d be able to stop it once it broke free, which would be soon enough.

 

But first, she’d have to get out.

 

Pushing past several bodies and stepping on their feet, Nesta scrambled for the exit door, but it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. She heard voices shouting louder and louder, making her ears bleed — or so it felt. Maybe it was her sweat, maybe it was her actual blood. Gods knew which one.

 

A loud crash boomed out from nowhere, freezing her. Then, after less then a second, followed the laughter. It made her see black spots dancing before her eyes.

 

Nesta never had problems with loud noises, at least not until recently. But since the Cauldron, where all she heard were hateful whispers about her life, and the war against Hybern, Nesta craved the quiet. While she was all alone in the Cauldron, it was worse on the battlefield, where everything seemed to overwhelm her. The loud groans and screams of pain and terror, the smell of death and blood, the feeling that she was always exposed, always in danger of having her heart ripped out.

 

Out. She needed to get out because she couldn't properly breathe nor think--

 

"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong? Can you hear me?"

 

Unfamiliar hands grasper her shoulders and shook her. Her whole body recoiled from the unwanted touch, especially on her exposed skin, and jerked away from the stranger.

 

She couldn't see his or her face. She couldn't see anything besides that darkness which seemed to float around her, engulfing her in its malicious presence. It was infinite and scary and evil. It brought only suffering and misery and wrecked everything she cared about.

 

Her weak control on her suppressed power snapped like a tight leash. The breath was whisked out of her lungs when she erupted, letting go of all that dark and twisted energy which flooded the entire club. It came out of her hands and chest like ribbons, sneaking in and ruining all it could find. In her state of half-consciousness, Nesta could hear glasses, bottles and dishes shatter, the music stopping and the slightly different shouts. These, she knew -- they were laced with panic and confusion, wondering what was happening and where that darkness came from.

 

It continued to pour out of her, a small fraction which made the ground beneath them tremble and the entire club shudder. The shouts became more desperate and panicked. Loud noises echoed in the back of her head, synchronised with the wood that was ripped from the ground and the pictures that feel from the walls.

 

In those agonising and scary moments, Nesta was alone. She always was, she supposed. Being surrounded by dozens of Fae didn't mean anything to her. It only made her realise just how lonely she was, and how much she despised it lately.

 

"Nesta! Nesta, calm down! Don't let it control you!"

 

A small part of her recognised that voice, but chose to ignore it. She felt Rhysand, her sister's mate, try to approach her, but a dark and cold wind pushed him far away from her.

 

_Leave me, don't come here, don't touch me, don't push me._

 

All those words spiralled in her head and made her vision blurry. Nesta fell hard on her knees, ignoring the broken glass and the splinters that pierced her skin. The pain pushed her harder, letting more of that energy rush out of her, making even the mountains tremble.

 

How much more of this could she bear? Faces swam past her eyes, faces of those she once loved and still did -- her beautiful, precious younger sisters, for whom she'd die for gladly but wronged so much. Her father, the man she despised so much but failed in the end. Her mother, a woman who wasn't nurturing nor loving, but was still there to pick her up whenever she fell and make her stand on her own again. A woman that didn't teach her how to love and nurture, but how to endure and face everything with her head held high. Because of her, Nesta's skin turned from porcelain to steel and her will stronger than ever.

 

Then came the faces of those she hated with her entire being. The first one was Tomas, the boy who taught her to fear the touch of another male and to always expect the worst of them. Nights spent reliving that nightmare when he pushed and gripped and tried to take more from her haunted her for so, so long. The hateful, conniving King of Hybern, the one who took away from her and only gave back one thing: fear. Even in his death, the bastard must've been grinning in triumph, knowing that even though he didn't succeed in his conquest, he managed to do one thing: install fear in her heart with roots so deep and thick that she couldn't rip them out. She was trapped in a cage with no door.

 

"Nesta, don't succumb to it. It's yours to control, so will it to stop!" she heard another voice through the darkness.

 

This one was well acquainted with her darkness. Shadows lurked around her, trying to get a feel of her, but she pushed him away nonetheless. She wanted to be left alone.

 

She wanted to be consumed by it.

 

"Nesta, listen to me," another voice pleaded.

 

Her darkness paused.

 

"Listen to my voice. You're alright, everyone's alright. Just breathe and let it go."

 

Her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to break out at any moment. The darkness inched closer to the source of that voice, shuddering at its warmth. No, there was no fear in it, no reluctancy.

 

"Focus, Nes. You've got this. You're stronger than you know."

 

Oh, how wrong he was. If he, who firstdespised her for the way she acted, could say something like this just proved to her how mad she became over time.

 

The darkness recoiled when he stepped in, but let him pass. They knew him, even in her anger and despair. He was all they could recognise in this madhouse, the untouchable one.

 

Nesta regained enough consciousness to let out a low cry, shaking from head to toe. Breathing became so difficult and painful at some point, and she wished she could just stop hurting for a second and be free of it all.

 

"Let me in, Nes. Please let me in."

 

There was desperation in that voice, but also fear. Not fear of her, but for her.

 

She blinked once, twice, enough to clear the fog in her eyes. The darkness parted enough to let one figure in.

 

"Breathe, just breathe. It's going to be alright. I'm not leaving you. I'm right here, Nesta."

 

Was he, truly? Or was this just another figment of her imagination, playing cruel tricks on her?

 

She dreamed about him. He plagued her mind and filled her soul with something so bright and pure that it kept that darkness at bay. Nesta was never someone who got attached easily to someone and never intended to get attached to him, but gods, she did. Hard. There was safety in his presence. She found solace in his words.

 

When Nesta finally regained her sight completely and caught a glimpse of him and the havoc she created, the well inside her emptied.

 

And she blacked out.

 

* * *

 

 

It was dark outside when she woke up.

 

It took her only a few seconds to come out of her sleepy state and realise three things:

 

One, this was not her room.

 

Two, she didn’t remember getting here from Rita’s.

 

Three, she completely wrecked that place during her mental breakdown.

 

“Fucking hell,” she swore, shoving the warm blankets away and trying to stand up.

 

She stumbled as soon as her feet touched the cold floor and fell back on the bed. White bandages covered both her knees and there was a faint pain there, but nothing serious. Nothing bad enough to keep her from walking.

 

And then it hit her — she let out all of her power, so she had no energy left. Gods above, for how long did she sleep? Where was she? Did she injure anybody?

 

Dozens of questions flooded her mind while Nesta tried to think of a way to fix things. Apologise to everyone, for starters. Pray that no one was seriously hurt. Help fix the place she so thoroughly destroyed.

 

They’re going to hate me even more now, her mind whispered, feeding off her old fears and insecurities.

 

She didn’t doubt that for a second. It was her fault for losing control, after all. She knew she shouldn’t have accepted her sisters’ invitation and joined them to Rita’s. But, as always, she fell face-first and managed to ruin everything.

 

Although Nesta tried her best not to, she broke down. Again.

 

This time there was no darkness, no person to injure. She was on her own in the dark bedroom, full of guilt and shame for everything she’s done out of fear and lack of trust. Every small decision she took, every denial of training and honing that stolen power led to this unfortunate event and caused mayhem.

 

Silent tears fell on her cheeks and blurred her vision. It became harder and harder to breathe and think straight, remembering all she did because she was so damn stubborn and weak to ask for help and to reach out to someone. When would all of this go away? When would she finally be free to live her life and not be scared?

 

The bed started shaking and Nesta yelped. 

 

_No, not again, not again._

 

There was no power left. How could this happen again? Why was this happening again?

 

“Enough, enough,” she mumbled between tears, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking herself back and forth. “Please just stop, stop, stop. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

 

The door creaked open and a dark figure slipped in. She paid it no attention.

 

They all said she was numb and didn’t feel a thing. Oh, how she wished they were right. How she wished she didn’t feel with every fibre of her being and care with every broken piece of her soul. In the end she gave up trying to prove everyone wrong, but still...

 

Still, she hoped.

 

The dark figure approached her bed. Nesta was reliving her nightmares one by one, wondering where it all began. Was that darkness something she stole from the Cauldron, or it was hers all along? Her pain, misery and shattered dreams?

 

“Nesta? Can you hear me?”

 

Shaking her head as if in a daze, Nesta turned her head and beheld the warrior kneeling by her bedside. She narrowed her eyes on his chiselled face and the darkness inside her dispersed. A heavy weight had been lifted from her chest, replaced with something sharper, deeper. Unlike the other one, Nesta knew the source of this sorrow: him. It was the sweetest, most destructive form of pain.

 

Cassian looked as if he was the one in pain, though. There was dark circles underneath those warm, concerned eyes and his brows were furrowed in concern. It was one of those rare times when his flying leathers were replaced by comfortable clothes, just like the ones she seemed to be wearing. Gone was the dress she worse at Rita’s. Good.

 

“I’m so, so sorry,” Nesta managed to say. Gods, her throat stung like hell. Did she scream? She couldn’t recall. “I never wanted to hurt anybody. I don’t know what happened. I never... I never meant to be like this.”

 

“Don’t ever say that again,” was his reply. “Don’t you think like that about yourself. What happened wasn’t your fault, Nesta. Everyone knows that. No one blames you.”

 

It was hard to blink away so many tears, so she quickly wiped them away and bit the inside of her cheek. Cassian laid both his hands on the best but didn’t come close to touching her. He probably saw what happened when the Fae touched her at Rita’s and the aftermath of that poor decision.

 

“What happened... after?” She asked, hands shaking.

 

Cassian’s face softened, and Nesta saw that there was no judgement in his eyes, no fear of her powers.

 

“Rhys, Azriel and Mor stuck around to help with the cleaning. Feyre and Elain have been pacing in the townhouse all morning, worried sick, but we thought it’d be safer if they stayed there. Rhys almost had to body block Feyre when she tried to fly all the way up here,” he smiled, although it was a small, unsure one.

 

Here. Yes, it made sense. They brought her to the House of Wind, where she couldn’t cause much damage.

 

“And what made you think it’d be safe for you to stick around?” She asked, her voice a mere whisper.

 

“Because I know you would never hurt me, intentionally or not. I’m not afraid of your power. I see you, Nes, and I’m not afraid one bit.”

 

Those words cleaved her soul apart and stitched it back together. A low, muffled cry escaped her mouth and without hesitating, Nesta leaned over and wrapped her arms around Cassian’s neck, giving free reign to her tears.

 

His hands surrounded her after a short moment of hesitation, perhaps wondering if it’d set her off again. But no, never from his touch. Never him.

 

Nesta buried her face in the crook of her neck and, for the first time in her rather short existence, laid her soul bare to someone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cassian didn’t dare move or breathe while Nesta held him close and cried.

 

And cried.

 

And cried.

 

He had to bite his tongue to keep his own tears at bay, but there were still a few that ran down his cheeks. It didn’t matter. The reason he didn’t want to cry too was because he didn’t know how to explain what this moment meant for him — that Nesta, his beloved and fierce Nesta, finally trusted him enough to be this open and vulnerable around him. To be the one to initiate any physical contact and cling to him while releasing all those overwhelming emotions.

 

From the moment he stepped in this room it was clear that things were pretty dark. Literally. There was a dark well and Nesta fell face-first in it and now she didn’t know how to get out of it. He called and called her name again and again, hoping to wake her up from her haze and bring her back to reality. He managed to do that at Rita’s, but he didn’t think he’d be this lucky twice. Dumb luck, he thought.

 

He ran his hands up and down her stiff back, hoping to relax and soothe her. Touching her or even attempting to was ruled out as soon as he witnessed what happened when that Fae male grabbed her shoulders. It wasn’t the poor idiot’s fault, but Cassian wasn’t about to do the same mistake. So it baffled him and filled his soul with so much tenderness and pure love when Nesta sought comfort from touch and presence.

 

Only when her crying seemed to stop and her breathing became less erratic did Cassian dare to gently push her back and look into those stormy, catastrophic eyes that he adored. Even though they were red and puffy, they were exquisite.

 

“I want to tell you something,” he began, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I don’t care how many demons you’ve got, Nesta Archeron, or how many dark nights you go through. I don’t care that you sit in the dark more often than in light and that your past scarred you. They don’t make me think or feel different about you. So I will be by your side even if it’s pitch black or sunny, and there’s nothing you can do or say to chase me away. I don’t want you to go through this alone. So whenever you feel low or scared, look me in the eyes and hold me a little tighter. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

 

His heart threatened to burst out of his chest when Nesta looked at him with such disbelief and gratefulness that new tears ran down her cheeks. His, too. This time, Cassian did nothing to stop them. He wanted to be just as open and vulnerable to her as she was to him.

 

“Then come here,” she said, moving to the other side of his bed. “Because I need you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nesta made enough space for Cassian to climb in next to her and immediately wrapped his arms around her. She moved until her back was against his chest and brought his hand to her head, resting her face in his broad palm. Was it her body that was still shaking, or his? It didn’t really matter anymore. As long as she wasn’t alone, it would be alright.

 

Cassian leaned in and kissed the bare skin of her neck, keeping his head there. There were no words to describe the closeness and safety she felt in being held like this; it amazed her.

 

“I won’t ever run away again,” she whispered, clutching his arm to her chest. “I’m so tired of running. I’ll always be here for you, too, even though I doubt you’ll need me as much as I do.”

 

He nudged her in the back and raised his head to gaze down at her.

 

“You have no idea just how often I need you, but I never know how you’d react if I came to you and poured my heart out. I know you wouldn’t turn me away, but I wouldn’t want to burden you.”

 

“Burden me?” She almost laughed at that. “Cassian, you could never do that. I’m sorry if I made you think that way. I know I’m not the most open person, but I promise I’ll try to be. With you.”

 

His smile was so sincere and tender that it filled her with warmth.

 

“You’re the bravest person I know, Nesta. And I’m honoured that you chose me.”

 

“I think it’s fate that chose for me. I was usually made smart choices.”

 

He laughed and pulled her closer to him. So close that she could hear his rapid heartbeats, mimicking her own. She never wanted to be parted from his arms. He kept her dark thoughts away and offered her everything she thought she’d never get.

 

“Will it get better?”

 

His soothing movements and caresses on her skin relaxed her body enough to make her sleepy. Still, she fought to stay awake.

 

“If you want it to, yes. You can always train to master it and learn to accept it. It’s all up to you, in the end.”

 

“Will you help me?”

 

“Of course I will.”

 

In the back of Nesta’s mind, there was still that fear of ruining everything and failing those around her. Of not being enough and scaring everyone away. Those fears had deep roots and would probably always hang onto her to remind her that even though her body was Fae, her soul wasn’t. They didn’t rip that away from her.

 

And it made her glad to have something so broken, dark and twisted and still be wanted by Cassian.

 

“Then let’s start tomorrow. And not at six in the morning, because I have other plans then.”

 

“What plans could you possibly have so early in the morning?” He half-laughed.

 

“Being cuddled by a fearsome, legendary Illyrian warrior. It’s much more important than training.”

 

“I completely agree with that,” he answered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Now get some sleep before any of us starts crying again.”

 

“I have a feeling it’d be you.”

 

“I know.”

 

A smile bloomed on Nesta’s face. She pressed herself closer to him and closed her eyes, although she did her best not to fall asleep. Not yet. She wanted to freeze this moment and relive it again and again until the end of times.

 

“Goodnight, Cas.”

 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

 

In that blissful place between sleep and being awake, Nesta let go of all her demons — at least for the moment — and allowed herself to be at peace. Perhaps there was still hope for her.

 

And the Illyrian that did everything in his power to keep her anchored to this world and not let her lose herself to that darkness... Sometimes she wondered if fate truly favoured her enough to bring him into her life. A beacon of light — and a promise.

 

Despite their endless banters and disagreements, they were right for each other. Nesta felt no shame in opening up to him — only relief.

 

Cassian was, and would always be, Nesta’s safe place.

 


End file.
